The Cobweb City
The cob web city sticks to your skin
as you pass through it jumbled strings
on its corners are hustlers
and men with wigs wearing worn heels, selling their wares
Traffic moves slowly, like long crawling slugs
eyes get accustomed to waves of heat,
rising like dragons from the concrete streets
where scents drift from food carts fill
Old men linger near drug stores, smoking cigarettes and coughing
the broke and lonely stop at every bar and chili parlor,
trying to fill empty pockets with pennies, lifted off the floors
sticking to the soles of society's shoes as a reminder,
that young is old, when left to fend for themselves
evil is a cold hand, never born from a gentle touch
Gray is a constant color when life becomes motion,
with unintended consequences, stopping long enough,
to disappear into the city's web
the people passing by see only shoulders and backs,
leaning against graffiti walls, trying to stay out of the rain
until locked doors open, at the shelter
contest Just Down the Road
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